Friday, February 13, 2009

Hamburger girl

“Not only does it make me smile, it is insanely comfy,” says Miss Kayla Kromer.

The word “insanely” seems peculiarly apt in the circumstances. When I showed her photo to the manager of the safari camp, he couldn’t believe that this slender female was a fan of fast food. I assured him it was possible.

“She must have a high metabolism,” I said. “I bet she spends the whole day fidgeting like a ring-tailed lemur. Probably loves domestic chores as well. She’d make some lucky man the perfect wife if she weren’t off her rocker.”

On further reflection, I’d say she has the look of a bullfighter’s lady about her – dark hair, smouldering eyes and grasping hands. It would be fitting, in a purely poetic sense, for her husband to kill the animal that she enjoys to eat. Picture the scene after a bullfight. Toreador Big Macarlos accepts the plaudits of the crowd before strutting off with a bovine ear stuffed in his pocket. Kayla, his dutiful burger-munching wife, follows him into the changing room to help remove his excessively tight trousers. Hot with desire, he pushes her up against a wall.

“You want your meat rare or well done?” he growls breathlessly.

She stares back at him defiantly before replying with haughty audacity:

“I want it in a sesame-seed bun with onions and relish!”

Inflamed by this sensual banter, they consummate their mutual hunger with fries and a milkshake.

Of course, there’s a lot more to being a woman of the world than getting into bed with a hunky piece of meat. In my circus days I was privileged to attend a lecture from Miss Nancy Nantucket, the burlesque queen, who would have swirled her tassels scornfully at the burger bed. As well as sleeping au naturale, Nancy dispensed with the encumbrance of blanket or sheet. This, she explained, allowed her pores to breathe as she slumbered.

“Don’t you get cold?” asked one of the clowns.

“I keep an electric fan heater on,” she explained. “My sleeping arrangements are similar to Queen Nefertiti, whose slaves wafted warm air from a fire over her nude body.”

“She slept naked in front of her slaves!” exclaimed the clown. “I bet some of them copped a feel of her nefertitties when they had the chance!”

“You silly man!” rebuked Nancy. “Her male slaves were eunuchs and her female slaves were not that way inclined. Lesbianism wasn’t invented until 600 BC.”

The cheeky clown was silenced by the stripper’s superior grasp of history, demonstrating the value of a liberal education in all walks of life.

Miss Kromer’s eccentric behaviour is quite charming in its way, but I hope she is similarly able to fend off the mockers and sneerers who will bedevil her path to fame. If she lacks the erudition of Miss Nantucket, she should acquire a repertoire of stock phrases to admonish those who would attempt to ridicule her. “Supersize me!” would be a good one. It’s not the most obvious insult, I admit, but it would sound pretty hostile in the right tone of voice. She could also use it to talk dirty to her husband if he needed encouragement after a hard day at the bullring. The versatility of language is a divine blessing for those of a limited vocabulary.

Nice post, gorilla. Entertaining, amusing, witty - very pleasant early morning reading for me :-) I especially liked the changing room exchange - LOL!On another note, that IS a nice looking bed. I guess she could sell it now, or invest in making all the other kinds of food (fries shouldn't be so hard!)

Last week on the train to Boston, a gentleman with a distinct New England curve to his American asked me if I found his countryment limited in their use of language. I hastened to assure him this wasn't remotely the case. From them, I told him, I've learnt at least three different ways of saying "whatever", to invest it with three very different states of mind. No mean feat, that, and just one example of many, too.

Yeah, my American friends tell me they think about burgers and cheese and relish when in bed as well - with or without a man - that's what they Americans do. Personally I'd think that's a little too distracting, I like to give my full attention to one thing at a time, but perhaps that's a question of taste.

Rather turns Paul Newman's quote on its head GB (why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home?) Kayla may not be as saucy in 20 years when they're winching her out of her hamburger through the window ... still lovin' it?

Good grief, even a waif like me would have trouble staying in that bed. One roll and you're off the edge. And where on earth would Ruf sleep? As a vegan and dedicated antiMacca, there's no way he'd consent to lying on that unless I remove the patty - which would make life mighty uncomfortable.

Here I am. Yes indeed I have seen that coffin shop in Temu, just outside Accra. I told the tale of Harold's funeral a couple of years ago but it's worth reading again. Perhaps the young lady will have a coffin made to match her bed when her arteries give out.

That bed is merely vulgar. When I stayed at the Kempinski in Hamburg, the chambermaid was anxious to tell me that Yehudi Menuhin and Cher had "also been in your bed". I was sanguine about it, as usual. Noblesse oblige.

Oh, right, Mr. B. I don't owe you any explanations at all. But if you want to know what do I wear in bed when I'm cold, the answer is, Chanel n.5 of course! "So far I haven't heard a complain from my matador" You see I'm all naturale.

That burger has made your write up into fabulous poetry full of wisecracks. Wonder what Kayla would do if you came upfront with your one-liners . I wonder if she could see meat in your tongue .albeit it is at at the other end of good hope.

Thank you, goacom. It might interest you to know that Kayla has not only read this post but also linked it in her Facebook site. I have exchanged e-mails with her and she seems to be a very nice young woman.